


even just for a little bit

by thelotusflower



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, High School, Sentence Prompt, but it's a lot of fluff too idk, high five friendship, i like angst too much, literally think i mentioned them once being a couple, lowkey riarkle, lucas has the WORST timing, lucas moves back to texas, lucas' dad is a lowkey asshole, lucaya - Freeform, maya pov mostly, not sure what this is, there is a lot of LOWkey shit in this tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/pseuds/thelotusflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>based off sentence prompt: "I just want you to be with me, even just for a little bit."</p><p>Lucas' dad wants Lucas to come back to Texas after his junior year of high school ends. Lucas finally decides to kiss Maya (at the complete wrong time.) Maya and Lucas spend their remaining time together, even if it will break their hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	even just for a little bit

There’s this pain, deep, inside her chest that makes her whole body tremble. 

She doesn’t cry often; she’s accepted her life as it is, and doesn’t get too sad over the things she doesn’t have anymore. She’s Maya Hart. She’s strong and has a great life, even if some might not agree, she thinks it’s great. It’s not perfect, but she has a mother that loves and works hard for her, a sister whose blood may differ, but whose loyalty and love never wavers. The whole Matthews clan, along with Hunter has her back. She has the best friends anyone could ever had. Maya likes her life—she likes the people in it. She doesn’t have to cry anymore about the people who aren’t in it (i.e. her father.) But now, the universe wants to take one of her amazing, incredible, wonderful people away.

He’s her close friend. He’s the cowboy. He’s the punch line of all her comedic approaches. He’s the butt of almost all her jokes. He’s a goddamn huckleberry who do-si-dos and square dances and rides trackers and wears cowboy hats. He’s Lucas god damn Friar. He’s comforting words and accidental (read: intentional) touches; he’s the person who makes her better, even if she’ll never admit to it. He’s her muse and encouragement.  
She’s accepted the things she has. She’s content with what she has, finally, and now the universe wants Lucas Friar back? That’s not okay. She’s not okay with that.

Her throat is closing. She looks down, and folds her fingers over her skirt. She doesn’t want him to see her. She doesn’t want to show she cares this much because they’re just friends and friends do cry over each other leaving, but she feels like she’s about to break; bawl her eyes out. Her body besets with an uncontrollable tremor. She’s caught in an earthquake, falling into the cracks, into the depths of earth and its pit, lost forever.

“Maya,” his voice is too soft—too gentle, but yet is strong enough to snap her heart in half.

She’s crying now. She covers her mouth to muffle her sobs, her eyes squeezed shut. She doesn’t want to see his expression. It’ll only worsen her own pain. She imagines he’s frowning, those green, Lucas eyes crest fallen and his whole body slumped over.  
He’s wrapping his arms around her after a few long seconds and she lets it happen, she presses her forehead to his shoulder, covering her face with her hands because it’s so god damn humiliating. It’s so fucking embarrassing--how much she loves a god damn cow boy.

He rubs her back and runs his hands through her hair, and she eventually uncovers her face and leans her forehead into his chest—he’s so god damn tall. Her racking sobs eventually fade to a quiet crying, and then to nothing—just sadness. Just an empty hole inside her stomach, a rupture to her heart, a breach to the life she once enjoyed.

God damn.

He pulls away, putting his hands on her shoulders. He’s got this frown on her face that makes her want to kick his father in the balls.

His father is making him move back to Texas. His senior year. He can’t just let him stay here for the last year, the most important year, the year before everyone splits in separate directions.  
He’s moving at the end of the school year—in three months. Three god damn months.

“I’m—okay, I’m just crying because you’ve lost your accent a little bit, and you’ve become more like a regular person, instead of a stereotypical huckleberry, ranger rick, sun dance—I mean, you are still all of those things, but not as much as you were when you first arrived here off your horse and buggy. It’s all gone to waste now, you know? You’re just going to revert back to the stationary cow boy.” She is talking in a quiet, broken words, sniffling and wiping her eyes with her shirt sleeve, blinking repeatedly to wipe away rebellious tears.

He’s smiling, but there’s tears in his jade irises and Maya is sickened by how terrible he is.

“I’m still the stationary cow boy, ma’am,” he smirks, tipping his hat at her—something he hasn’t done since seventh grade.

She sucks on her bottom lip before forming a rueful smile. “Then, hey, get out of here now,” she says, but she can’t even look him in the eye when she says it, it’s such a lie. “Skit, away with you, and don’t be coming back, yi here?” she mutters out in her best Texas accent. It’s weak. She just doesn’t have it in her right now.

He lets out a small chuckle. He swallows, hard. She locks eyes with him and gulps too. 

“This would have happened anyways, right?” Maya shrugs a shoulder after a moment. “We would have gone off to different colleges. It’s just a year early,” she is whispering because she can’t really speak. “It’s not like anything was going to happen in that year.”

“Yeah,” Lucas does a curt nod. “Just another year,” he says, eyeing her sadly.

She fidgets. She is just now realizing how close they still are. He has his arm extended out, his hand resting at the wall she’s leaning against. She would only have to take one step forward to have her face pressed against his chest again. She can smell his cologne, fondly taking it in. 

She eyes him, blowing out a stream of air from her lips.

He looks down at her, then he’s leaning forward and she’s angling her face up at him, and the things she cannot deny she has not thought about hundreds of times, happens. His lips are against hers, her’s chapped and wet and slobbery because she’s been crying—the kiss is like a cry: slobbery, wet, loud, inconvenient but releasing. There’s been so much god damn build up and tension, and now it’s all coming undone. It’s all being vaporized because his palms are pressed against her cheeks, his fingers in her hair, and his lips are locked against hers in a passion and hunger she’s yet to know until now.

For a moment, a fleeting moment, she forgets. She kisses him on her tip toes and runs her hands down his chest, and it’s as great as she imagined it would be—better. She’s a fool for a moment, a god damn fool, and her heart gets the better of her.  
He’s moving to Texas, the information slams against her.

She pushes him off of her, heaving out a long, jagged groan after. She slams her body against the wall, trying to compose herself. She pushes her hands in her hair and holds onto the wall. She’s shaking. Her heart is racing, pounding like thunder. She worries her whole apartment building can hear her pounding heart. Her vision blurs with tears, and she’s not sure if it’s anger or sadness. She blinks it away, but still feels a hot wetness roll down her cheek. She turns to Lucas, staring at him, her mouth wide open, ready to shout at him, but she can’t. Instead, a little rasping whisper comes out. “What was that?” she demands.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he’s looking at her again with tearful jade irises and fuck, she hates him so much.

“No, god damn it, what was that, Lucas?” she demands, swallowing the lump in her throat and finding her voice—her ferocity. “You’re going to Texas in three months. You’re going to Texas and you’re not just going to visit, you’re living there.”

“Maya, I like you. I like you, and I know you know I like you, and I know you feel the same way.”

She’s glaring at him, her eyes wide and angry. Her nostrils flare and she crosses her arms, and Lucas is no stranger to Maya’s angry face. He’s seen her get pissed at many people before, most of the time it being Farkle. “And you think now is a good time to talk about that?” she inquires.

“Now is all we got,” he murmurs desperately.

Her eyebrows furrow together. She eyes the floor and shakes her head. "I just want you to be with me, even just for a little bit,” he tells her, his hand pressing against her shoulder.

She shifts her gaze to him. “It already hurts enough and we aren’t even together,” she declares. “This will only make it worse.”

“Maybe I think it’s worth it,” his hand inches up to press against her neck. He pushes back her hair. She sighs and leans against his touch. She closes her eyes.

“Don’t stay stuff like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not—it’s not worth it,” she opens her eyes. She nudges her head into his hand and he presses it against her cheek. She steps forward and holds onto his arm. “It’s not worth torturing myself with having you like… this,” she breathes in. “And then having it taken away from me,” her eyes skit away from his.

His hand slides down her face so his thumb is rubbing over the corner of her mouth. Her eyes unite with his against. She feels her heart momentarily stop from the way he’s looking down at her. His voice is soft and fills her whole entire body with ease, “I’m yours,” he whispers. “I’m yours, Maya. So, please, let me be yours. Be mine. For this time we have left, let’s be what we have always secretly wanted.”

And he’s so god damn sappy and emotional and corny that to shut him up, to just keep him from pestering her further and babbling out this gooey, sentimental crap, she says, “okay.” (It’s really because she can’t, can’t say no to him—not with the way he’s looking at her, not with his voice softer than she’s ever heard it, not with the delicate, lovely words leaving his mouth.) She presses her lips to his, standing on her tip toes and wrapping her arms around his back.

He’s kissing her back tentatively, his hands in her hair and her tongue in his mouth. She’s pressed against his torso and he’s holding her up in the air so her feet are dangling from the floor--she’s levitating—she honestly feels like she’s floating, in the clouds, stuck in the electricity of a lightning storm that she has no desire to be excused from, even though there is a great possibility of getting blasted.

This is a bad decision, a very bad decision, that she knows she’ll be filled with remorse about later, but she’s always been keen of letting Future Maya deal with her current mistakes. 

 

They date, and everyone is “what” and “oh…” and Riley’s happy that she’s finally giving in to her feelings, but concerned. Maya’s concerned too, but she’s really on a wonderful high with him and doesn’t want to think about how much she’ll crash.  
They spend a lot of time together—a gross amount of time kissing and touching and cuddling. They steal kisses before class and during lunch and before his baseball practices. She was never one for PDA but she figures their time is limited, and everyone always expected them and wanted them to do this, so why not put on a show—make them happy? Plus, she’s never not enjoyed attention, so, it’s not the worst thing.

He takes her on dates and goes to art museums with her, and she goes to his games and makes posters. He sleeps over because her mother doesn’t really care and he tells his mom he’s at Zays. She tries to be lazy with him, but he’s always pushing her to do her homework, saying ‘junior year is important, colleges pay attention to junior year, blah, blah, blah.’ She’ll be at home sometimes, watching TV, her homework still not done at 11 30PM, and she’ll hear his nagging voice in her head—‘ Do you’re homework, Maya. You’re talented and I want you to be able to get into a good art school, don’t let your grades ruin you. Reach your full potential, Maya.’ It’s annoying, but she’s doing better in school now.

They get drunk together one night and Maya kisses him so much, her lips all over his face, and neck and torso, and says, “I think I might really, really be in trouble, huckleberry,” and he drinks more and more after that, trying to forget.

When he gets angry—too angry—she is always there to calm him and he worries what will happen back in Texas, without Maya or his other friends to have his back. Maya tells him he will be fine, that she knows he is capable of controlling himself, being in charge of himself and he believes her.

He pressures her to pursue her art more—entering in contests and signing up for a million different scholarships that she never would have had hope for without his constant, annoying, persistency and she actually gets one—a scholarship. He’s the first she tells, even before Riley, and he smiles so much you’d think he was the one who got the scholarship.

They have sex the week before prom because Maya’s never liked clichés and also because she’s spending the night at Riley’s on prom night (Matthews won’t let her go anywhere else.)  
Lucas tells her that he’s never done it before, and doesn’t ask if she has, but she tells him it’s her first time to. He looks a little shocked—a few months before she came really close with this one guy, was talking about it with Riley and knew Lucas was listening in—but doesn’t say anything about it besides, “so you’re first time will be with a cow boy, huh? You sure about this?”

She rolls her eyes and kisses him—hard. He asks if she’s sure about it a hundred more times and she tells him to shut up and take her virginity already.

Lucas starts telling everyone “Maya has a thing for cowboys,” after that, and Maya just glares at him, but he smiles and kisses her, and she tells him she has a thing for boys who are him, when no one is listening in.

They go to prom—her in a pale yellow gown and him in a tux and bolo tie, and Maya knows it’s for her—for their never ending game that neither of them will ever win. He gives her a bouquet of flowers and recalls the first flower he ever gave her, back in seventh grade, when he was Riley’s.

They dance and she tries not to think about how he’ll be gone in a few weeks and how much that will crush her.

 

The next few weeks go by way too fast, and she clings to him. He seems fine and she doesn’t fucking get it, but she also does because she is her and he’s him, and even if he wasn’t going to Texas, they probably swouldn’t last anyways.

One night, when she is particularly moody, he picks up on it.

They’re at Coney Island because Lucas has never been, and wants to see it while he still lives here. Maya tried to be happy about being there in the beginning—put on a good show—but then she just started thinking about all this time she spends with him and how much of it will be spent alone when he leaves. 

They sit on a bench and he has his arm draped around her and she’s tired and agitated.

“You know, in Texas, we have a few tourist attractions, too.”

“Yeah, well no one who lives outside of Texas wants to see the biggest haystack, hopalong.”

“Well, if anyone wanted to see the shortest short stack, it’s right here,” he grins fondly at her.

She glares at him, a sort of sigh of frustration coming from her lips. She stares at the harbor, crossing her arms.

“Who’s also got the shortest temper!” he throws up his arms, mirth in his voice.

She glances at him, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Hm,” he thinks it over. “No? What are you in the mood for? What do you want to do with the rest of the day?”

“It’s like 8. There’s not much left. Your mommy wants you home by 11.”

“I can sleepover,” he suggests, pulling her limp hand into his lap. He entwines their fingers. 

She shrugs. “I’m supposed to have a sleepover with Riley. I was supposed to come over after we were done hanging out.”

“Oh,” he nods, “that’s okay.”

“Of course it is,” she mutters. “You’re okay with everything. Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“Maya—what?” 

She pulls her hand from his, and puts some distance between them. “Can we just look at the harbor? Just—not talk. I just want some quiet, all right?”

“You want to go home?” he asks.

“No.”

“You want me to go home?”

“No.”

“Okay...” he stretches out the word. He looks at her instead of the harbor and she glares at him, and then he sighs and looks at the harbor.

After about five minutes of not talking, he says, “did I do something?”

“Nope,” she states, her eyes still locked on the harbor. She sucks on her bottom lip.

“All right, so I’m just expected to believe that this,” he gestures with his hands, “is normal and fine?”

“Yup.”

He sighs. Waits, then stares at her again. She looks over at him. “Maya.”

“What! Oh my god, just, stop. Stop talking. I don’t want to freaking talk.”

She gets up and walks up to the railing, setting her forearms on it, her back facing him. He sighs and gets up too, following her and standing next to her. He hesitates before saying anything, “so, let’s just stand here then.”

“Okay.”

They just stand there, for a long time, then when it’s really dark, they go home. It’s still only 9: 30, so they go to get ice cream. They still aren’t really talking.

Finally, after they sit down and Maya takes a few inches off her ice cream scoop, she says something—what’s been on her mind. “You’re okay with everything. You’re okay with leaving, and okay without New York and okay without me.”

He stares at her, incredulously, his eyebrows pushed together and his mouth agape. “That’s what you think?” he questions, setting his milkshake down. “That I’m okay with leaving you and everything else behind?”

“Lucas, you’re a stable, adjustable, person. It’s just you. But me, I’m a mess. I’m a god damn mess and it’s really freaking me out. We only have two weeks left.”

“Maybe I can convince my dad to let me stay for the rest of the summer.”

“You know that’s not going to work.”

“I can stay with Farkle—he lives in such a big of a house he won’t even notice I’m there—or Zay! My parents, well my mom, loves Zay.”

“Still, no, I really doubt it.”

He frowns and waits a moment before saying anything else. Maya moves the rest of her ice cream around in her bowl, stabbing it with her spoon. “Maya, come on, you really think that this isn’t freaking me out too?”

Her shoulders go stiff. She purses her lips together and shakes her head. She sits up straight and looks straight at him, her voice rough and stern. “I like you so god damn much, Lucas.”  
He frowns. 

“I think,” she sighs, her eyes angling up, “I might,” then back at him, “love you.”

He sits, gaping at her because he feels the same way, obviously, but he never thought they’d get to this point. They are both terrible about talking about their feelings—hell, it took them so long to just to admit to liking each other. Without his departure to Texas hanging over them, they’d probably still be stuck bantering, sexual tension still boiling between them.

“And don’t go blabbering your mouth off about it, but god, I just--,” she sucks in a breath. “I think about you all the god damn time. It makes me ill. I talk about you with Riley to the point where she probably wants to take off her friendship ring and throw it in the middle of the ocean. Well, that’s how’d I feel, but Riley’s Riley, so you know, she lives for the romance junk.”

“I love you Maya,” he professes, not even listening to anything she’s saying. “I know. I know I love you. It kills me that we are going to be apart. It kills me when we are apart now.”

She looks at him, wide eyed, a little sound coming from her lips that he can’t really make as any word. He reaches across the table, taking her hand in his, smiling tenderly at her. She offers a pained smile back.

“Oh, huckleberry, we’ve really found ourselves in a pickle haven’t we?” she sighs, staring at their hands.

 

 

His parents say no—of course—to him staying for the summer. So, they are left with two weeks.

They’re out of school now, so they spend every, waking, and some non-waking, hours together. Sometimes they’ll be with the group. A lot of times, actually. They spend time alone though too, and Maya says that she is going to find whoever is going to be living in his apartment next and kick their ass. Lucas smiles at him, but pleads her that she won’t get arrested. She just says she can’t make any promises.

She cries a lot of those two weeks—after Lucas goes home or on her way back from his place. She cries more than she’ll ever confess.

Lucas tells her that it’s fine—she’ll be fine. Her senior year will be great with Riley (who’s happily in love with Farkle) and he asks her to take care of Zay (“he gets into a lot of trouble” “I’ve noticed.”) She tells him that she can’t be the moral compass, square dancing, horse birthing, cow boy though and says that she’ll just have to find another person to fill the role. He plays the game with her (she’ll never break him.) He says, “and I’ll find a beautiful, short, blonde who annoys me to death and picks on everything I do.” She calls it a good plan and they both smile sadly at each other.

They have a farewell party for him on the Matthew’s rooftop. She wears his favorite red dress and paints him a picture of New York, and he tells her he loves it and her, but she’s pretty sure he would have said the same thing if she gave him the doodle she has of him riding a bull and holding up a lasso.

Farkle and Riley are all optimistic about it, saying that they know they’ll all be friends still, “forever” (gag.) Zay says that he’ll probably show up in his class on the first day, and Lucas says he wouldn’t be surprised, but then he says, “nah, I’ll stay here, but college, I’ll be there,” and honestly Maya doesn’t really doubt it. Zay is like half in love with Lucas.

She doesn’t really doubt that they will still all be friends. The thing is, she doesn’t want to be friends. She doesn’t ever want to be friends again with him after experiencing what it’s like to be more—what it’s like to be loved by the cowboy.  
They sit together on the roof when the stars come up and most of the party’s gone home. He kisses her cheek and plays with her hands, and she leans into him, and he says, “I love you,” like a million times because ever since she told him she love him, that’s basically all he says to her. She supposes worse things could come out of his mouth.

 

 

The next day, the dreadful day, is the Lucas’ last day in New York. His plane departs at 6 PM, so they have to be at the airport by 4 PM because his family follows that procedure. Maya spends every minute of the day with him, the group there for a big part of it too.

It goes by way too quickly. 

“I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

“Yeah,” he whispers.

“Well, for old time sake,” she smiles sweetly at him, walking closer and closer. He has tears in his eyes (this dumb cow boy) but he’s grinning at her.

“No, you don’t have to.”

“But, I do.”

“You don’t, Maya,” he argues.

“Ha, ha, HURR!” she shouts in his face, only to be grabbed and kissed more passionately than he’s ever kissed her. He has his hands wrapped around her waist, hoisting her up, spinning her around in a circle (as if her head wasn’t already dizzy enough with his tongue against the roof of her mouth and his lips tugging on hers.) He kisses her until she’s desperate for oxygen and has to pull back.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he is still holding her up in the air, her arms draped around him.

“I know,” she breathes, pressing her forehead to his.

He sighs and puts her back on the ground. She smiles at him, daintily and he breaks right then, and lets out a sob.

“Oh, ranger rick, you’re going to make me cry and I’ve cried too many times already to stomach,” she frowns.

He wraps her arms around her and damn it, she’s crying too now. It’s not sobbing, but silent tears, tears that are hot and ruin her mascara.

“I have to go,” he pulls back.

“I know.”

She kisses him one more time and wonders after if it will be the last kiss they ever have. She desperately hopes not. She feels her heart ache already, feels the broken heart beneath her rib cage cracking and shattering, spearing her.  
Worth it, she decides. So worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudos or review to make my life a little less sad thanks


End file.
